


Built And Beautiful

by ApocalypseThen



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: F/F, Mass Effect Kink Meme, Muscles, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-22
Updated: 2015-12-22
Packaged: 2018-05-08 11:39:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5495765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ApocalypseThen/pseuds/ApocalypseThen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Samantha makes a habit of being around when Ashley's working out. But she's been too tongue tied by the beautiful, muscled marine with the heart of gold to even say hello.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Built And Beautiful

“Remind me what we're doing here again, Samantha?” asked Steve, scratching his head.

“We are checking the Kodiak's telemetry,” replied Samantha. She laid out her toolkit on the dashboard. “There's still too much noise in the secondary channels.”

“Telemetry, huh?” he said with a smirk. “Funny how that always seems to need tuning up when the LT is doing PT in the cargo bay.”

“That is a complete coincidence,” said Samantha, picking up a screwdriver and brandishing it. “Although I will not deny that it makes the job considerably more pleasant to have something nice to look at.” She sat back in the pilot's chair and swiveled around to face Steve, which incidentally gave her a great view out the window.

Steve was relaxed in the co-pilot's chair. “And as long as you're holding a screwdriver in your hand...” he began.

“...then I am definitely working and absolutely not just ogling that gorgeous beefcake,” Samantha finished. She compressed her lips and gave a little nod for emphasis before cracking a conspiratorial smile.

“You know, Samantha, it's kind of rude to call her a piece of meat,” he chastised.

Samantha caught his eye. “Steve, honey. Don't ruin this for me,” she said. “Oh, widgets. There she goes.” She craned forward in her seat, her screwdriver raised and ready, to watch as Ashley jogged by. Her thick ponytail bounced from side to side as she slapped the deck with her bare feet. The racer back of her sports bra served to outline her well-developed shoulders, splitting to frame her thick neck. She glistened with sweat. As she moved away from the shuttle, Samantha's gaze dropped to her legs, her ass, the muscles in her back, all coordinating to thrust her forward in long, easy arcs. Her light workout shorts stretched tight over her behind every time her legs extended.

“Need a tissue?” asked Steve. He was watching Samantha with an ironic expression.

Samantha clicked her mouth shut and wiped the back of her hand across it. “Ow,” she said, the screwdriver bumping against her nose. “You see?” She proffered the back of her hand to Steve as evidence. “Actual drool. I salivate over her. How's pudding? Is it rude to call her pudding? Because I could eat that up,” Samantha opined.

“Uh-huh,” said Steve. “Did you think about talking to her? Normally you don't have a problem around pretty girls. You flirt plenty with Shepard.”

Samantha's delicate brow wrinkled very slightly. “That's different,” she said. “Shepard's fun. She's always joking around. It's easy.”

“But?” Steve rolled his eyes up to the cabin ceiling, waiting for her to go on.

“Ashley reads poetry. She talks about her family. She's honorable and kind and built like a superhero and I have a really really bad crush on her, Steve!” Samantha's gesticulations with the screwdriver grew wild and Steve shifted uncomfortably as he watched.

“Careful with that,” said Steve. “So your plan is to die of old age, pining away for Miss Williams, then?”

“Indeed, in my dusty old house, surrounded by a thousand cats who are the only ones who love me,” Samantha replied. But then she was distracted. Ashley had finished her run and was pacing up and down the cargo bay, hands on her hips. Samantha took in the washboard abs, flexing with the rise and fall of her prominent, bounteous chest. The sports bra only served to lift and present it for inspection. Her deep, controlled breaths threatened to stretch the thin material beyond its limits.

“What makes you think she's even gay?” asked Steve.

Samantha directed her most smug expression towards him, head tilted a little to the side. “Please. Remember who you're talking to.” She was quiet for a moment. “She might not know it yet, though, I'll give you that,” she added thoughtfully.

Steve leaned forward and rested his chin on his palm. “So what's the problem?”

Samantha sighed in frustration. “That just makes it worse! If she was straight, I'd just look. But now I can't stop thinking about breeding that big stud.” She held her head in her hands. “The whole nine yards. White dresses. Matching labradoodles. I think she might be the one, Steve.”

“And you haven't even spoken to her,” he said.

“No, I sort of sidle up to her when she's talking to other people, and then sidle away when my tongue starts hanging out,” Samantha confessed. “I'm sure she thinks I'm strange, if she's even noticed me at all. Therefore, I have decided to pine.”

“And ogle,” Steve supplied. 

“Have you seen what she wears?” Samantha turned her consternation upon him. “She doesn't mind one bit. So confident about her body.” This last was delivered with a sigh.

Steve sat back and made a pyramid with his fingertips. “I have Vega showing off every day, down here. And yet somehow we manage to communicate.”

Samantha flapped her screwdriver at him dismissively. “Yes, but he's a big tease. And not exactly your type, if I'm not mistaken. Ashley's the real thing.” Her eye was drawn to the window again. She stood and leaned across the dash for a better look. “Oh, no. Oh, no-no-no. This can't be happening. Steve, you're going to have to leave. I can't be responsible.”

Steve looked over his shoulder briefly. He was in time to catch the swift, powerful thrust as Ashley lifted the barbells above her head in one clean movement. He turned back to watch Samantha's roving eyes, which were feasting on every line and curve, from the quivering bulge of even the smallest of Ashley's glistening muscles, to their overall synthesis into a beautifully proportioned, vigorously healthy specimen of womanhood.

Samantha's eyelids fluttered briefly as she spent a moment too long contemplating the tense globes of Ashley's rear-end, the ample valley that her thin shorts were drawn into. “Oh, boy,” she whispered. 

“I think I may have underestimated the scale of your problem, Sam,” said Steve.

Samantha wasn't listening. Steve watched her as she stared out of the window, her knuckles whitening around the prop screwdriver. Her chest swelled and her nostrils flared as Ashley lifted the barbells again. He waited patiently.

After ten reps, Ashley racked the weights and flicked a towel around her shoulders. She sat back against a crate in the corner of the bay, elbow resting on her knee. Samantha seemed to deflate, and her lip began to quiver. Steve rose and put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“That...” Samantha began. “Her...” She was distraught, her voice quavering. Steve drew her in and held her lightly. Samantha peered over his shoulder. She couldn't take her eyes off the beautiful, peaceful creature at her ease on the deck, hot, sweaty and radiant.

To compound Samantha's frustration, as she watched, Ashley scratched idly at the underside of her breast with her free hand. She brushed a finger over her nipple, and Samantha swore she could see its hardness even through the confinement of the sports bra. Ashley let that hand work its way down her flat stomach to explore the waistband of her shorts. Then it ducked under for a second, scratching quickly at something, and returned.

Samantha held her breath as she saw Ashley lean forward and delicately sniff her finger. She bit her lip and wrapped her arms around Steve. “It'll be OK, Brains,” he said. “We'll find a way to get her to notice you.”

Samantha saw Ashley scan the cargo bay with a brief turn of her head in either direction. Seemingly satisfied, she slipped her hand back under her waistband and this time, left it there. She smiled, and her head tilted back, her eyes half-closing as her hand scratched away.

Then Samantha saw her lazy smile freeze, and her eyes open fully. Ashley turned her head a tiny fraction and looked straight at her through the window of the Kodiak's cockpit. Samantha hid everything but her wide, disbelieving eyes behind Steve's shoulder. Ashley caught her lower lip in her teeth and looked down and away. Her cheeks flushed pink. Then she looked back at Samantha, coyly smiling, and kept looking as her hand resumed its work under her shorts.

“Want to let me go now, Sam?” asked Steve, who was leaning down a little bit uncomfortably to hold her.

“Never,” she replied in a determined little voice. “Never.”


End file.
